


Qaha

by squirrellysemantics



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirrellysemantics/pseuds/squirrellysemantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has to have a beginning.</p><p>From a prompt received via tumblr that turned into something longer than a drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Qaha

**Author's Note:**

> The word 'coffee' is thought to ultimately derive from the verb 'qaha', meaning 'to dull one's appetite'.

Coffee is just about the only thing that keeps Kaidan functioning at the moment.  Two weeks after Virmire and sleep still won’t come. Not enough of it, anyway. Not with Saren still out there.  Not when there’s reports that need to be picked apart for clues and not when there’s data that needs sifting even if though tonight feels like he’s plowed headlong into a brick wall.  He knows a clear head would do wonders but each spare second and each spare minute is a gift from Ash that he can’t throw away on something as indulgent as rest.

Shades of red make the Normandy come alive when she transforms herself for the evening and Kaidan passes through her corridors as if they are a blood vessel within a giant organism, taking the path he's taken every night for the past fourteen. The routine is so ingrained that his auto-pilot kicks in: head to the mess, find what coffee that’s left over that hasn’t turned to complete shit, mug three quarters full of bitter Alliance-issue sludge. The only thing that makes this mess drinkable at all is the two sugars and topping it off with cr-

His hand passes through the air on the counter where the creamer should be and it’s his weariness that creates enough of a fog that it takes him a few moments to realize that what he seeks is not actually there. Gone missing, or finished or-

Or there’s someone else who finds themselves just as restless.

The counter falls into shadow and Kaidan has his answer when the creamer appears before his eyes.  

"Looking for this?" says Shepard, voice softening in amusement before he takes a sip from his own cup of tar.

There’s that feeling again. The one that comes from the bump of shoulders while kitting up for a mission that always gets to Kaidan, or the way he catches Shepard watching him as the Mako touches down that twists him up in knots.

Most days, Kaidan can convince himself there’s nothing there, just like military protocol demands it should be. It’s all a figment of his imagination.  
  
Most days.

A laugh escapes from Kaidan as he reaches for the creamer that is so tantalizingly close. “Exactly what I need.” 

He blends in a generous helping to cut the god awful taste and Kaidan can’t help but ask. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, Commander?”

“Yes, I should.” Shepard lets the corner of his mouth curl a little and that takes the tempered edge from his face. “Could say the same for you, Lieutenant.”

Kaidan has to look away. “Well, it’s not for lack of trying.  And since I can’t, I need to make myself useful, y’know?”

“Yeah.” The humor fades from Shepard at Kaidan’s words, his cup closing in on his lips like a shield. “I know.”

They catch each other’s eye and it’s becomes painfully clear that they’re both here for the same damn reason, spinning their wheels because otherwise the instant either of their heads hit their pillows, they’d be back on Virmire where there’s nothing but smoke and claxons and a weapon that needs protecting at great cost-

“Shepard!”

The name bursts out of Kaidan in an attempt to break this paralytic hold that comes from the guilt of having the temerity to survive and thankfully, it works.  Works entirely too well, perhaps, because while they each blink away their sorrow, Kaidan has no idea at all what he should say.

He tries anyway.

“I.. I.. I’ve got a pile of intel that’s got me going cross-eyed-” he says, not sure where he plans to take this.

But then he sees it.

Right now, in one terrible second, there’s none of the grizzled soldier in Shepard, none of the hardened warrior.  There’s only a man in desperate need of a connection that has nothing to do with death. Kaidan knows that feeling.

Knows it well.

He surrenders his coffee mug to the counter, his taste for its bitterness all gone. “I could use your help. Maybe…bounce off a few ideas. Get some new perspective.”The silence goes on and on and Kaidan has the need to fill it with something, anything, as long as it stops this torture.   “If you don’t mind, that is, ‘cause otherwise I can-” 

Shepard’s eyes are on him and Kaidan can feel every bit of it, cool and measuring, sizing him up.

A second cup joins Kaidan’s on the counter.

“I’d like that, Kaidan.”

This time there’s a phase shift and everything goes warm when Shepard reveals a smile that’s real and open and honest. 

 “I’d like that a lot.”


End file.
